Change
by 221badasstreet
Summary: She sat at her window and stared across baker street into the second story window of 221b imagining the great detective actively engaged in a deduction or taking his boredom out on his poor flatmate. Sherlock's past is going to catch him, but his present has changed as well. Lemons, slashing, smut, and all that gory stuff!
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own these characters, names or places. All rights go to their creators. Warning JhonLock goodies ;D**

**_So this is my first fic, so be honest, I would like constructive criticism and reviews! LOVE YA! Mc_****.**

~Change~

Something was changing inside John.

He watched the way he moved, lithe and nimble as he scurried about the flat. Preparing for another one of his experiments, that John new would surely end with some dead body part sitting by his jam in the fridge.

Sherlock was standing in the kitchen in his favorite dressing gown and cotton pajama pants and no shirt. Which was very unusual for Sherlock, john knew that meant his flat mate needed to do some laundry. Typical Sherlock, but John wasn't complaining he sure loved the view, as his robe exposed different parts of his pale toned chest as he moved. John wanted to kiss him, lick him, love him. Watson's pants were slowly becoming tight. If Sherlock chose that moment to look over he would surely see John and his obvious excitement, but Holmes was innocently oblivious to it all.

John rose to go to the bathroom to take care of some apparent business. John closed the door with a soft click that inevitably caught Sherlock's attention.

Sherlock looked up to see that John was gone he stood still to listen to calculate exactly where john was. The bathroom he concluded. Holmes was about to get back to work, when he heard a low moan. He was instantly concerned that his flat mate was in pain. He put down the eye ball he was about to drop in acid and took off his gloves to was his hands.

Sherlock had raised his hand to knock on the door when he heard another moan, this time it didn't sound like pain it sounded like pleasure. This sound instantaneously awakened long repressed emotions and bodily functions inside Mr Sherlock Holmes, that he had deemed unimportant and distracting to his work. He felt himself gasp at the noise. Sherlock turned and leaned against the wall, a million and one thoughts were racing in his mind but the most prominent one was why was he aroused? It happened rarely but when it did he easily ignored it.

Something was changing inside of Sherlock.

John slowly stroked himself from base to tip all the while imagining Sherlock's dark head of curls bobbing up and down on his hardened cock. He picked up pace pumping quickly to his release. As John came he unintentionally said Sherlock's name.

Sherlock was still standing half slumped against the wall listening to Johns self pleasuring. The frequency of his moans and airy breaths indicated that he was close to his finish. Sherlock with is arms crossed and his head bent as he stared eyes half open at the bathroom door. When he heard something that he could have never imagined, something that made a chill run down his spine. John gave a low grunt and shuttered "ugh Sherlock" and Sherlock completely lost focus on reality which happens when Sherlock doesn't understand, and that has never happened.

John tidied himself up and washed his hands and opened the bathroom door he didn't immediately see Sherlock, but when he did stopped and stared slack jawed at his friend who was slumped with his arms crossed looking right in his eyes with one wicked stare. "uh Sherlock." John mumbled. "John" Sherlock breathed. "How long have you been standing there?" john stuttered. "A while." Sherlock replied.


	2. Chapter 2

John didn't know what to do. He had absolutely no idea how to handle the present situation. How long exactly had Sherlock been standing there? How much had he heard?

Sherlock still hadn't moved from his position on the wall. He could see the embarrassment and what he thought was fear in johns eyes. Sherlock still didn't understand what was happening but he knew it was bothering john deeply so he decided to shut down and leave.

John watched Sherlock's eyes scan him. Deducing. Then he left, just left. Didn't say one word just walked away back to the kitchen resuming his work.

Sherlock desperately needed to think. Thinking he was good at. Although trying to understand these damned useless emotions that will not secede is another thing altogether. He could deduce a persons whole life in mere seconds, but figuring out why he had a raging, and quite annoying hard on was almost impossible for the high functioning sociopath.

Dr. Watson was stunned, confused, and slightly scared. He had no fucking clue about anything and was thoroughly embarrassed and scared. The Dr had no idea how Sherlock Holmes was going to react.

Hours passed, with Sherlock doing what Sherlock does best. Science! John fidgeted nervously until finally he just got up and went to take a shower.

When John left, Sherlock deflated and let his guards come down he could feel his face contort into confusion. With the time that had passed Sherlock had decided one thing. He would discover what it was exactly that had awakened this primal need and raw desire inside him.

It was well into the evening and Sherlock still hadn't dressed for the day. Which even he had to admit was weird. But the day had been a weird one. The muscles along his spine pulsed and twitched with self inflicted stress. Sherlock was changing and it bothered him.

John had been in bed now for about an hour so Sherlock let himself relax a little and get comfortable. He removed his robe and loosened the tie on his bottoms so they hung loosely around his hips. Sherlock didn't care if he was gay or not he cared that he couldn't ignore his arousal. He wanted so badly to find out what John Watson was made of. Sherlock Holmes went to bed irritated and sexually frustrated, he wasn't the only one.

_John opened the bathroom door and a hand shot out grabbing him by the collar. Johns mind immediately pulled rank and shifted into combat mode. He easily gained control of the body connected to that arm. He pulled Sherlock out of the darkened hallway and pinned his arm behind his back. He shifted and spun him around pinning him against the wall. Sherlock had a blackened fire burning in his gaze. John had grasped reality by this point but he realized the opportunity that had presented itself. He shifted his body so that his knee was between Sherlocks. He forced his arms above his head. Sherlocks chest was hitting Johns with every quick breath he took. John put his lips next to his ear "You just made a mistake." John felt Sherlocks skin chill and the hairs raise. He loved how he caused such a reaction. John shifted Sherlocks head with his own and grazed his lips down his neck and bit down hard on the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. He threw his head back and gave a throaty moan. John laughed low in his throat. "Sherlock I don't know what you thought you were doing but look what you've made me do and I don't think I can stop." he looked him right in the eye and said "I don't want you too."_


	3. Chapter 3

John started awake. Sweating and panting as the early morning moon shone through his window.

He had known for a while that his feelings towards Sherlock were changing. The constant moments of weakness where his mind and body were synced and the racy thoughts of his flatmate felt as normal as the chilly, rainy atmosphere of London. But there were also the moments where, what he thought he knew about himself no longer seemed true. That bothered him deeply, kept him awake some nights when his mind rejected what his body felt and what his heart was straining to tell him.

John awoke that night with a new perspective. He didn't give damn how he was raised or what the world would think of him. He only cared about what Sherlock thought and that's what scared him shitless. He sat in the moonlit darkness and cried. Searing tears ran down his face as fear washed over him and unavoidable internal conflict. His body was raked with sobs as John leaned forward into his pillow and didn't hear his door open.

Sherlock walked into johns room with the intent of waking him for a urgent case that Lestrade had just called about, one that actually sparked interest in Holmes but all those thoughts fell away as he realized what was happening before him. Human emotions were not something Sherlock understood or even acquired at times but seeing John in such pain broke his heart Sherlock had never had such an onslaught of emotion before. Uncontrollable. It made Shelock's breath hitch in his throat and a burning sensation start in his sinuses and soon he had tears rolling down his own face. Holmes never imagined such an irrational thing could happen to him but that was not what occupied his thoughts at that moment. It was, he had to comfort his best friend in any way he could. Sherlock climbed up on the bed kneeling in front of John taking his head in his hands and tilting his face up ward before embracing him in a hug. John clung to Sherlock like a drowning victim to a life preserver. "Shhh its alright John I'm here ." Sherlock whispered and rubbed his back as he continued to uncontrollably sob. "Sh-Sh-Sherlock?" john stuttered. "Yes my dear its me I'm here." Sherlock had no idea how he knew how to comfort someone, so he chalked it up to instinct. Sherlock rubbed circles along Johns spine until finally he felt his friends tensed muscles relax and he took a deep breath. Sherlock shifted so they were sitting side by side and pulled John down so he was lying on the bed beside him Sherlock closed the distance between their bodies and wrapped his arm around John. Sherlock spoke softly into John's hair. "Sleep my friend. Sleep, rest your mind." Sherlock kissed his temple and settled in for the rest of the night.

Sherlock knew when John had fallen asleep by the steady rhythm or his heart and lungs. Sherlock let his mind wander over the events of that fateful Tuesday. Sherlock was confused by many things but one thing he knew for sure was that his feelings for Dr John Watson had forever changed. Sherlock nestled closer to the doctor and fell fast asleep.

John awoke to a sleeping Sherlock wound around his body. John smiled in his comfort. Then immediately frowning as the memories of the night before came flooding back he didn't know how it happened, that Sherlock came to him that night when he was in dire need of a friend and gave him the support that no one else could. John felt tears sting his eyes because he knew it must have been one hell of an internal battle for Sherlock to put himself into such a vulnerable position. John felt Sherlock take a long deep breath John turned over so that he was facing Sherlock. He watched Sherlock open his wide, sleepy, silver eyes and marveled at the site because he knew this was a Sherlock very few people have ever seen. Sherlock blinked a few times focusing and smiled widely a John. John just stared face unchanged Sherlock's gaze shifted to Johns mouth, they were mere inches apart and Sherlock still hadn't fully awakened. He closed the distance between their mouths and pressed his lips softly to Johns then pulled away to look him in the eye. Johns face still unchanged as his now completely alert eyes looked questioningly at Sherlock. Sherlock sighed and rolled out of bed. He then walked down to the kitchen to make his morning tea. John laid there with his hand to his mouth reveling in the still lingering feel of the detectives lips.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey all so I've had a bit of writers block but for the last couple of days my imagination has been running wild so i now definitely know where this story is headed. Anyway please review :) and like always i do not own any thing. -Mck**

Sherlock made his way to the kitchen to prepare his morning tea. He opened the tea canister to find a little note sealed with stamped wax in the shape of a very intricate "A" Frowning because there was really only one person he knew with this much showmanship. The letter read:

Have Dinner with me tonight?

-I xoxo

_Irene. _Sherlock rolled his eyes because that's the exact moment john chose to walk in. "What's that?" he asked. Holmes decided just to tell the truth. "It's a letter from Irene Adler." John's upper lip twitched slightly in annoyance. "What's it say?" Holmes knew he'd found out about the text messages so he again told him the truth. "She wants to have dinner with me." "Oh." Sherlock could see the hope draining out of his features. "Well I hope you have a good time." Sherlock just stood there staring at John until Watson finally spoke again. "What?" "There are many other things I would rather do than have dinner with Irene Adler." Sherlock stalked over to john slightly angry at him for even letting the thought pass through his mind. "For instance I would much rather do this…" John backed up against the wall as Sherlock strode towards him. Wrapping his large hand around the base of his skull he pulled him roughly towards him and gained control of his mouth. John didn't resist for long before he melted into him and matched his pace. Sherlock opened his mouth a little wider allowing john to slip his toung inside. The kiss had reached cloud nine and was getting hotter john moaned as Sherlock slipped his hands under his t' and ran his hands along his hips, his thumbs tracing the v at his groin. John bit Sherlock's bottom lip and pulled Sherlock let a low moan escape his throat when John froze. "Wait how did she get in here?" Sherlock laughed a real laugh a rare sound. John enjoyed it while it lasted. With humor laced through his words Holmes said "she was wearing ballet slippers and danced in through the front door where she had previously picked the lock, she was wearing a sparkly body lotion that of lavender and vanilla and she skipped silently to the kitchen where she left the note and disappeared the way she came locking the door after herself." "Now, you just broke off one fucking great snogg to ask a stupid question can we please continue." John grinned and pulled him close capturing his mouth once again. Until Sherlock's stomach expressed its hunger. Both men looked down john smiled "that's new!" Sherlock just glared. "There are things to be discussed so let's go have breakfast." "I don't think so boys." Both Holmes and Watson almost broke their necks turning so fast at the sound of a new voice.

Mycroft leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. He watched john and Sherlock untangle themselves from one another and pretends that there was nothing going on but an ant would have sensed the sexual tension in the air.


	5. Chapter 5

After breakfast John scurried of to the clinic, where he had to put in some hours with sickles of London. Sherlock watched John walk away appreciating his even military trained gait.

Sherlock calculated the time from the shadows on the ground. He knew how long it would take him to reach the Holmes estate.

Twenty-three minutes and five seconds later Sherlock arrived at the front gate, where a slate-colored gravel path led the way to the large and ornate doors.

Sherlock bypassed them altogether and walked around to the back garden where he knew his darling brother would be waiting. Seated on a small iron patio char reading The Strand was the elder Holmes. "Sherlock" Mycroft said. "Can we hurry this up I'm bored." Sherlock lied, he was actually quite content but he would never admit that to Mycroft. " Fine its about the case." Sherlock frowned he only had limited details of his current case. "All I know, there is a missing girl." Mycroft nodded "Yes its Amelia." Sherlock felt his heart squeeze uncomfortably hard. He turned on his heel and walked swiftly back the way he came as he rounded the hedges at the side of the house he broke into a sprint. Sherlock's mind was everywhere and nowhere. What kept him in reality was the even pattern of his feet against the pavement, As he unconsciously ran back to baker street.

John looked out the window of the flat having returned because he forgot his stethoscope and briefcase. He peered down Baker and a tall form was running full speed toward the flat, great coat flying and scarf billowing. Sherlock!

John walked down the stairs unlocking the door just as Sherlock halted to a stop. He flung open the door and took the stairs two at a time. "Sherlock!" but he got no answer. John sighed and walked up the stairs not really sure how to go about the state Sherlock was in.

Sherlock was seeing red, and he knew that he needed to isolate himself. The only coherent thought that his brain produced was her name. Sherlock paced back and forth inside his bedroom he felt his anxiety reach a new level. Pulling his collar in frustration. He hasn't seen Amelia in ten years she is one of few people he doesn't stalk when he's bored. The atmosphere around him escalated he could hear his breathing, raged and labored, his heart slammed against his ribs. He was hot, too hot. He ripped at his shirt causing buttons to fly pinging off of walls. _How is this possible? This isn't possible._ He himself made sure it would never happen. Holmes's anger overrode his system. Flooding his body with adrenaline. First it was the desk. The laptop smashing against the wall the desk falling heavily to the floor and four fist sized holes adorning the wall. He wrapped an angry fist around the drapes. Destruction was his only thought, he yanked so hard he pulled the whole fixture and about foot of sheet rock with it.

John flinched when he heard the loud crash. Running down the hall hearing four loud bangs one right after the other and all the while there was a mix of unintelligible gibberish, and a one solitary word "Amelia."

John knew not what was happening but he did know it needed to stop. He walked briskly into the room. "Sherlock?" no response, the slumped form of the detective was enough to send the the good doctor into a panic. "Shit" he grabbed the taller man by the shoulders shaking him "Bloody hell Sherlock look at me." his head wobbled around. John grabbed him by the chin forcing his head up. And what he saw he will never forget. The large unfocused Grey eyes were full of tears. And most shockingly of all, fear. Johns breath was caught in his throat. Sherlock stared unseeing at Watson.


End file.
